


Ride that broomstick

by War_Disnei



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Molly Weasley, Cheating, Cougar - Freeform, F/M, Fight Sex, Implied Sexual Content, MILFs, Middle Aged Crisis, Molly loves fish fingers, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), broomstick ride, somebody help Molly please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-01-25 13:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12533036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/War_Disnei/pseuds/War_Disnei
Summary: Life at 12, Grimmauld Place can be hard; especially on Molly, the unofficial housekeeper. Between cooking meals for the "heroes" and going on missions no one else is willing to undertake, Molly feels like she isn't getting the recognition she deserves. On top of that, Arthur is getting older.Will this middle-aged witch get a taste of candy?**Don't read if you don't want the image of "mother hen Molly Weasley" spoiled for you!**





	1. Crisis

Molly felt like she could explode any moment.

She was having none of this collective nonsense anymore!

Her days followed one another in an endless succession of bleak mornings, stodgy afternoons, gloomy evenings and flavorless nights. The only clue Molly had that time was passing was the mirror: every few weeks or so, a new _wrinkle_ would pop up, as would bad news from the Order.

The _Order_ _of the Phoenix_. As far as Molly was concerned, if its name had been the Order of the Sphincter, it would have not changed much. Actually, in Molly's honest opinion, an actual sphincter was bound to be much more of use than that self-ridiculing bunch of delusional half-wizards who called themselves "Voldemort Slaying Team".

Molly wasn't the richest of witches, but honestly, she didn't ask for much: her cozy home-farm, her beloved kitchen and her children's well-being were more than enough to keep her content.

But. _But_.

Dumb-o-dore had really pulled  _one nasty joke_ on them this time. Ouch. Now she had said it.

But as much as she tried, Molly couldn't feel guilty for holding a grudge against their visionary guru-like wise old mentor. Not when he had been the one to convince Arthur and herself to relocate in that humid _shithole_.

"It will be _lively_ and _spacious_ " old Albus had guaranteed while suppressing a giggle.

"Spacious my ass!" Molly shrieked in a fit of premenopausal rage while sweeping the moldy carpet. What was the point of all that room if three quarters of the house were either inaccessible, unsanitary or cursed?

She was the one in charge of the housework: nobody of those other "world saviours" ever lifted a finger to help her. Molly swept, dusted, washed the dishes, kept up with Kreacher (she'd never met more of an un-domestic House Elf) and Mrs Black, did the laundry (Black's stinky socks included) and made sure nobody left the house with an empty stomach. On top of that, she was still very much involved with the Order, undertaking missions no one else was willing to tackle (like that time she had spied on a suspected dark market middle-man while sitting on a public toilet seat) and had to monitor her seven children from afar (because their father was, uhm, hopelessly distracted). What was worst was that everything she did was for free and even _expected of her_ and that nobody ever showed as little recognition as a "thank you".

The only times of the year she looked forward to were the school holiday periods, when she would have her kids at Grimmauld Place with her. At least, she looked forward to those days until they actually happened: the Weasleys had always been, and would always be, a handful. She felt like a bad mother for thinking that, and was somehow inclined to blame her crazy hormones for formulating such Medean thoughts, but there were times when she seriously considered leaving her brood with Arthur and relocating on some tropical island far, far away.

Then, the mere mental image of her lonely husband struggling with Fred and George's pranks, Percy's hysteria, Ron's sloth, Ginny's rebelliousness and Fleur's manipulative tactics would always be enough to make her change her mind.

 _Arthur_. Never had her marriage been more _meh_. The steamy days of their youth long gone, the Wizarding War and the energy it drained out of her husband was definitely not helping any effort to rekindle their flame. She couldn't say she was uhappy: after all Arthur was a good natured, funny, loyal, hard-working, predictable and stable man. And yet, perhaps it was precisely because of these "good boy" traits that Molly was deeply _dissatisfied_.

Having younger, active adults in the house wasn't exactly of help: at night, while Molly sat at the kitchen table with an overworked Arthur, listening to his boring work stories as she served him a sausage; Tonks would sneak upstairs where she would get a taste of a different kind of _sausage_. Molly could always tell when the two got down to business from Remus' howls (and no, it wasn't due to a Full Moon). This awareness would leave Molly feeling lonely and envious. Nonetheless, she would smile at the two lovers, wearing her best "chubby mama" smile on her face. Truthfully, Molly was resentful inside, just like a hag.

But it wasn't all. As if enduring Dumbledore's mockery, teen kids' moods, ungrateful co-workers, a hibernated husband and less-than-ideal living conditions wasn't enough, there was also that _damn dog_.

If life at Grimmauld Place was unbearable, Sirius Black was to blame for 50% of the downsides. Which, all things considered, was saying _a lot_.

What bothered Molly the most about him was that it didn't matter what he did (or didn't do), he always was so unapologetic for it. And smug. The man didn't care about other people's opinions, he just went on to live his own life.

Unlike all the other hypocrites who "exploited" Molly's free labour, he was brutally honest about his lack of appreciation and sense of entitlement. He felt like he could say whatever was on his mind, and didn't fear criticizing her in public. Being a perennial enfant terrible, Black wouldn't treat her with the respect and aloof reverence a woman her age was reasonable expecting. Instead, he would be extremely sincere, laugh at her face and even try and pull pranks on her (rarely succeeding, due to her impressive CV of nearly two decades of parenting the twins). And it would drive Molly mad.

Oh yes. Black would pay, mark Molly's words.


	2. Fish fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly loves fish fingers.

That morning promised to be like any other morning at 12, Grimmauld Place.

That is: mold-&-dust-filled. Uninteresting. Ungrateful.

Arthur had left for work, and all the others (minus Black, of course) were off "running errands" somewhere. Truth was, everyone became exceedingly busy whenever the house needed as little as a standard amount of maintenance.

Molly was sweeping the floor when Black trotted to the pantry, barefoot, snatching a slice from the previous day's pie and proceeding to chomp it down on the way back to his "cave" a.k.a. his bedroom, carelessly leaving a trail of breadcrumbs in his wake.

That sight made Molly's blood boil.

"Black!" she barked "Did you ever spell the word "considerate" in your useless life?!!?" she lashed out at him, not caring about appearing rash and irrational. She'd long passed the treshold of "self-containment" with _that dog_.

If anything, her rage seemed to please Black, something that angered her even further.

He absent-mindedly turned, with that nonchalant, sexy demeanor of his, running a hand through thick, dark, elongating hair and arching an eyebrow.

"Excuse me, Molly, did you say something?" he taunted her.

Molly was seething with rage. Enough with these tricks of his.

"I...will...break...broom...on your....pig...head!!"

"What? A pig broke your broom with its head?" Black feigned ignorance.

"AAAARGH!!!"

 

Right in that moment, the doorbell rang. Both Molly and Sirius rushed to the entrance, as if on a contest to see who got there first. Molly won by using her wand to make the floor under Black's feet slippery, causing his butt to slam on the floor. As he howled in pain, she openly mischieviously smirked at him, while running her spell-checks before opening the door. It was Mundungus Fletcher, with his usual array of dubiously procured goods.

Despite being short, bald, perennially tobacco-drenched and not exactly handsome, nor trustworthy, Molly had always found it hard to resist his charm. Perhaps because he represented everything she could not have, everything she'd given up on since saying "yes" to Arthur. Therefore, it was with a wide smile that she welcomed the misfit.

"Mundungs! What do we owe the pleasure of seeing you?"

Mundungus looked smug, Sirius, on the other hand, couldn't stop himself from laughing. Apparently, the fact that strict Molly referred to a visit from that petty criminal as a "pleasure" was endlessly funny to him. Molly incinirated him with her gaze.

"Ow...er...I was wondering if I could find a spot where to place these modest bags o' mine. Just for a few hours, I promise"

Sirius seemed to be disapproving "I am sorry, this is the Order's Official Headquarters, we don't want anything to do with your personal smugg-..."

"Of course Mundungus, dear!" Molly trilled, glad to have found an occasion to irk Black.

"Perfect, my dear _grosse cochonne_..." Mundungus exclaimed, rushing to follow Molly inside the house.

Sirius rolled his eyes, realizing that someone ought to teach Molly some basic French, especially seeing that her eldest son was likely marrying into a French, Molly-hostile family.

Mundungus left his bags inside one of the rooms, didn't say no to a double helping of coffee and biscuits with jam and peanut butter, attempted to snatch a chandelier (promptly stopped by Sirius), cracked a few vulgar jokes, then motioned back towards the door, ready to leave.

"It was a pleasure, Mundungus. Why don't you stop by more frequently to keep us company? This house feels so empty, with Arthur gone all day..." Molly purred, knowing the exact effect these words would have on Sirius. Oh, sweet revenge.

Mundungus, however, laughed coarsely.

"It's no wonder he's gone all day..." he chimed in.

Molly's alarm bells went off.

"Why do you say so?"

"Didn't you hear? The winner of Miss Diagon Alley has become the new, sought after secretary at his Department. If I had a choice, I would stay away all day too!"

So unrefined.

 

Mundungus left, leaving Molly insecure, resentful, rejected and heartbroken.

Sirius considered retreating in his room, but then thought better of it. Nobody treated that woman right. _Nobody_. She didn't deserve to be so trod upon. She was seasoned, but that had not diminished her worth. Not in his eyes, at least. So he got an idea: he decided to serve her for once, by cooking lunch. Due to lack of culinary skills, however, he resorted to heating a packet of fish fingers. When he called Molly, who was brooding and on the verge of tears, to the table he'd set specifically for her, the woman yelped in surprise. She couldn't believe it.

_Or maybe, she could._

However, she wouldn't let him have it easy. She sniffed, playing hurt.

"I am not hungry"

"I don't believe it" Black countered, his eyes smiling with anticipation.

"Why should an old housewife like me pack even more pounds..."

"I've always liked myself a soft, seasoned caciotta. You can't starve yourself!"

"Ever since when have you become the voice of wisdom?!?" Molly chided, enraged.

"If only you could stop and listen from time to time...now please, make this bad dog Sirius happy: take a bite"

Sirius put a couple of fish fingers on a plate, took one in his hand while walking closer to Molly and extending his arm to her mouth, as if he wanted to feed her.

"What? How _dare_ you..."

"You're not the only one who's lonely, _Molly-cat_ " he whispered with a sultry tone.

He sure was tempting. He was the dark, sensual demon Molly had always dreamed would come and kidnap her one day, to bring her down in his world of forbidden wonders...but she was older. And, according to Mundungus (and, she supposed, even her husband), unattractive. She had a mom bod. And a hen-like mind. She wasn't sexy. Don't fool yourself, Molly.

"If this is another prank of yours so that you can have a laugh about it, later, with your friends..." Molly threathened.

"With whom? I have no one. James is dead. Peter is as good as dead. Remus is so burdened we can no longer have a light-hearted moment together...with...Snape? AH! I am alone, can't you see?"

Molly had not considered it. Ever since returning to the UK, Sirius hadn't actually had any chance to put his nonchalant good looks and charm to use. He'd been shut inside that hellish house just like she had.

"And then...I would have no reason to make fun of you. I wouldn't want to. I am not like that. And you, of all people, do not deserve it. It's all real, Molly-cat" he blushed slightly. There was something about going after an older woman that aroused him to no end. Though it wasn't like he'd planned it. It was just happening.

He was romancing her because he wished for a release, just like she did.  
It was so obvious. Molly wondered how she could have been so blind. Holy crap. For a moment, her conscience held her back. But then, thinking about all the years of deprivations and self-denial, she thought there was no reason why she couldn't enjoy that young, deprived, sexy beast. All to herself. Changing expression, she moved forward with a fire she'd long repressed shining in her eyes: lust. Pure, untapped lust she hadn't experienced in years.

Molly took a bite of fish finger as Black smiled, seemingly satisfied. She sucked the fish, then proceeded to suck Black's fingers.  
"Mmmh, someone's hungry"  
"Shut up, or else I'm going to chomp these fingers off your criminal hands"  
Black sniggered.  
"What's not to like about an insatiable tigress?"

Molly giggled, slapping him playfully as he grabbed her butt.

"I wouldn't mind riding a broomstick from time to time..."

Soon, the kitchen table would be put to a very singular use it hadn't been conceived for.

12, Grimmauld Place became the kinky arena of a "cougar" and her "toy boy" for that day.

 

Unbekownst to them, the twins had left a plethora of extendable ears hidden in places around the house, with the ability of live-stream listening from Hogwarts. Mundungus, on his hand, had put a micro camera in place, something Mugglish he'd snatched from Arthur. Oh yes. Things were bound to get interesting.

 


End file.
